


Sick Leave

by WinnieTherPooh



Category: Brooklyn Nine-Nine (TV)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Minor Harry Potter Spoilers, Nightmares, Post-Prison, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, References to Harry Potter, Suicidal Thoughts, Therapy, post 5x02
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-28
Updated: 2019-07-28
Packaged: 2020-07-23 22:23:31
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,861
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20015743
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WinnieTherPooh/pseuds/WinnieTherPooh
Summary: Amy decides that Jake needs a vacation after he returns prison, and he finally begins to open up about his recovery as they read Harry Potter together.Written for amyscascadingtabs for the Brooklyn 99 Summer Fic Exchange, with the prompts "vacation, sunburn, confessions"





	Sick Leave

Even though Jake said he was fine, even though he had started seeing a therapist every week, Amy still suspected that something wasn’t right. There were moments where she would catch him staring off into space, startling when she called his name. He woke up some nights, and she would hear him getting out of bed, going to the kitchen to make tea or coffee. Usually, he would come back to bed within a few minutes. Other nights, he sat out on the couch, watching TV until Amy fell asleep waiting for him to come back. 

Once or twice, she tried to go out there and sit with him, to be with him in whatever was happening in his mind. 

“Go back to sleep, Ames. I just drank too much coffee.”

“I have a case on my mind.”

“I just want to watch this movie.”

Once or twice, he let her stay, but he wouldn’t say anything, just held her close to him while they watched Die Hard again.

The nights when he did sleep, he was restless enough that his tossing and turning woke her up anyway. Those nights were the hardest, as she heard him murmuring her name, saw him clutching at the sheets like he wanted to strangle them. She never mentioned those nightmares to him- he wasn’t ready to talk about them, and she knew that she couldn’t push him. Not about this.

The final straw came one day when he woke up screaming, locked in the throes of a panic attack that she could do nothing to calm. She sat there, waiting for him to allow her to hold her hand, waiting until he relaxed enough to take his medication, and then fall asleep with his head in her lap, his hair damp from the sweat of his terror. 

The next morning, she called in sick for both of them. Jake slept in, finally resting under the influence of benadryl and the weariness of the previous night. When she got out of the shower, he was sitting up, his hair in a mess, eyes blinking at her from behind the lenses of his usually-scorned glasses. 

“Are you okay? Why aren’t you at work?” He seemed genuinely confused. 

“Babe, we have to talk.” Amy sat down on the end of the bed. “Don’t worry, this isn’t a bad thing. I think it’ll actually be good for us. You’re not doing well, Jake.”

“I’m fine, Amy. I’m going to my therapist, and I’m getting better. I just need more time.”

“I know, babe, I know. But it’s not just about time. You need space- we need to get away for a little while.”

She had expected him to fight her more, to demand that he keep working. Instead, he ran his fingers through his hair and sighed. “You’re right. Where are we going?”

“I was thinking the beach. Not here- we could leave today, and drive south- there’s an island in South Carolina, the Isle of Palms, where a cousin of mine used to stay. She said that it’s quiet and the beach is lovely and the food is amazing. I looked up some places last night- we could stay at an AirBnB and if we leave now we could get there by midnight.”

“You and your research.” Jake laughed, but the sadness lingered in his eyes. “Okay. You’re the boss.”

* * *

An hour later, Jake was driving while Amy read aloud from Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone. He looked over at her, and couldn’t help smiling at her enthusiasm and the concentration on her face. He could spend a week watching her. 

She stopped reading for a moment to drink from her water bottle.

“Are you tired? We can always buy the audiobook, Ames. You don’t have to use your voice.”

“No, I don’t mind.” Amy flicked the book open again. “An audiobook isn’t the same.”

Jake smiled again. He hadn’t wanted to use an audiobook anyway. Her voice- that was what he really cared about.

* * *

A few hours after that, Amy was driving while Jake read aloud.

“It does not do to dwell on dreams, and forget to live.” Jake paused. “That’s bullshit.”

“Woah. You’re coming after Dumbledore?” Amy’s voice instantly changed to argumentation mode. 

“No, I don’t mind Dumbledore. This quote though-this quote is just bull.” Jake stared at the pages. Avoiding eye contact with her? Maybe. “Sometimes dreams are the only way to keep living.”

Amy realized that this really wasn’t about Dumbledore, or Harry Potter at all. “Yeah? What do you mean by that?” 

Jake’s voice was slow, deliberate, his words tracing out his feelings for the first time in weeks. “I mean, what if you’re somewhere that sucks? That really really sucks. And you’re stuck there, and there’s nothing good about it. There’s not a life to live, and the dreams are what keep you alive. Dumbledore isn’t wrong, but he’s at the top of his game. He goes wherever he wants, does whatever he wants. He doesn’t know shit about how important dreams can be.” 

Amy nodded, and then hesitated before speaking. “Is that how you felt in prison, Jake?”

It was his turn to nod, and he looked out the window suddenly, his hand jerking to his face to wipe away a few sneaky tears. 

“Dumbledore doesn’t know shit,” he repeated in a murmur, before taking a deep breath and starting to read again. 

* * *

By the time the sun set, they were just starting to read the Chamber of Secrets. Amy’s feet were propped up on the dash, and she was waving her left hand around for a fry from the greasy bag between them. 

“You know, it’s really fucked up that they took Hagrid to Azkaban without even thinking to investigate to see if Tom freaking Riddle was back.” Jake interrupted her suddenly, his hands clenched around the steering wheel so tightly that his knuckles were white. 

Amy’s hand abandoned its search for food and covered his own on the steering wheel. “Even the magical world isn’t perfect. It’s a good thing he had good friends who cleared his name for him.” 

Jake looked at her, a smile playing across his face in the golden light. Inside, Amy heaved a sigh of relief, before privately berating herself for suggesting that they read Harry Potter. When it became too dark to see, she started playing music from her phone, before Jake stopped her.

“Do you think- do you think that maybe you could keep reading with a flashlight? Don’t worry about it if it’s too much trouble- I just need to keep hearing it.” He sounded almost embarrassed, but Amy obligingly reopened the book in the blue light of her phone. If Harry Potter, of all things, was helping him, then maybe it hadn’t been such a bad idea.

* * *

On the second day, after a massive dinner and drinks, they were sprawled across the bed in their AirBnB, Amy reading the final pages of The Prisoner of Azkaban. She was leaning against the headboard, while Jake lay on his stomach, picking at the quilt. Then, all of a sudden, he was talking again. 

“Sirius lost 12 years. I would have lost 15. I thought I had lost 15.”

Amy closed the book, sensing that this was it. This was going to be the conversation (the monologue) they needed.

“I thought I was going to go crazy. I didn’t even have Caleb at some points, when I was in solitary. When I didn’t have my phone- when I couldn’t talk to you. There were times when I thought I was going to die without ever seeing you again, because there was always somebody trying to kill me. I don’t know how to sleep anymore. I’m always on guard, always afraid, even in my dreams, that I’ll wake up dead.” He kept talking for ten minutes, but Amy only lasted another thirty seconds before she was laying beside him, her arm around his shoulders, pressing her body into him to keep him here, to remind him that he was home, with her, while he cried and talked and let out all the hurt and pain of the past few months.

* * *

The next day, Jake lay out in the sun for 3 hours without moving and- regrettably- without sunscreen. They spent that afternoon inside, Jake covered in aloe and Amy reading aloud from the Goblet of Fire. 

“Hey, remember when you skipped work to finish this book?” Amy poked him.

Jake laughed, and for the first time in forever it came from his heart, and not just from his mouth. “Oh Ames, never underestimate what I would do to impress you.”

* * *

Since Jake couldn’t stand being in the sun, they spent the whole next day indoors, shopping at a mall in Charleston, and continuing to read together. They only ventured to the beach as the sun was setting, casting a dusky light over the waves and sand. He had grown quiet as they walked down the beach, hand in hand with ice cream from the boardwalk shop. 

“I’m glad that I’m here.” Jake said suddenly, squeezing Amy’s hand. “I’m glad I made it out.”

“Me too.” 

Jake stopped, and they stared out at the water together, Amy’s head resting on his shoulder. “You know, when I say that, it’s not just because of Romero.”

“What do you mean, love?” She could feel his body tensing.

“I was scared of him, obviously. But there were nights- there have always been nights - when I realize that I’m more trouble than I’m worth.” Jake refused to look at her as he whispered. “It didn’t start at Jericho, but that didn’t help. My therapist- Will- Will said that I should try talking about it. I didn’t want to- I never want to feel the way it feels. I don’t choose it, but I can’t make it stop.” Amy was barely breathing. “And I’ve never really tried to kill myself before, and I don’t think I ever would because I wouldn’t leave a body behind for you to find. But at the same time, I can’t make the thought go away.”

“Oh, Jake.” Amy released her breath in a half-sigh, half-sob.

“And I don’t want you to worry about me, because I’m okay right now, I really am. I’m safe.” He looked down at her, and squeezed her hand again. “Hey, I’m serious. That’s why I told you just now. Because I feel safe, and I’m at home now. I’m glad that I’m alive, and I’m glad that I’m here, right now, with you.”

“Me too.” Amy looked up at him, into those eyes that had taken her through tears, and panic, and love, and so much pain in only the past week. “I love you, Jake Peralta.”

“I love you, Amy Santiago.” He kissed the tip of her nose and she smiled. 

“Do you think you’ll sleep better, now that you’ve said all this?”

“I don’t know.” Jake’s voice was almost a whisper for a second, before he coughed, and blinked back a few tears. “But I’m not going to try to do this alone any more.”

  
  



End file.
